Human - phan

Twenty Two

It was so cold. I don't think I've ever been so cold in my life.

I left a note at my front door, alongside my bag and my phone.

Just in case.

I didn't go inside. I knew if it did; if I felt the warmth, if I saw the familiar sights and all the memories and felt the softness of my mother's embrace that I'd chicken out.

I had to do this for Phil, I owed it to him.

He had to have a good life – finally, after all his suffering. With me gone, Knuckles no longer interested in him, the drug gang shut down... Maybe he could start again.

I had to hope, it was the only thing that drove my feet onwards down the pavement.

*

Knuckles' house was a good hour's walk away. I normally took the bus but hey, I had twenty-three hours and walking felt good.

Alone with my thoughts it was impossible to block the memories out, so instead I let them flood, paying little attention to my feet on the wet pavement.

I remembered the first time we'd managed to get the bedroom alone for the evening. PJ and Chris had looked knowingly at each other and announced they were going out for dinner with a wink.

I'd come in from the shower and Phil had been sitting on the bed looking up at me, knees hugged to his chest. I'd never seen him look so shy. It was such a difference from the first time in the barn, where he'd taken control and shown me what to do with a gentle confidence. This time, I approached him. This time, I lifted his chin and kissed away the anxiety that lined his face. This time he asked if we could turn out the lights, and I said okay. Because it was nice. Without sight, everything becomes touch. Everything becomes slow and soft. Phil's fingers stroking gently over my body to find my face. My giggles as I fumbled with the bottle cap. The smell of cherry filling the close, warm air. Looking down where I knew Phil's eyes would be and reaching for his lips. Missing in the dark, and kissing my way along his jaw instead until I found them. The silence afterwards. Phil's fingers in my hair.

Tears fell freely down my cheeks, and as they landed it began to rain.

I remembered working in the library with Phil. Sniggers as I's snaked my hand up his thigh under the desk. His eyes were so wide and shining as he glanced over the computers to make sure no one was noticing and scolded me under his breath. But he didn't push my hand away.

I remembered the weekend at my house. I remembered Phil's glee as I pointed out my favourite climbing tree. How he'd ran to the bottom of the garden while I laughed, then climbed like a monkey and within seconds I was running after him with a whoop. I remembered the way PJ and Chris had shouted for us when they couldn't find us, while Phil burried his face into my leg to muffle his laughter at their bewildered expressions. I remembered having to loop my arms around his shaking shoulders to stop him falling out, and laughing myself.

Laughing so hard I thought I'd never be sad again.

I remembered pulling Phil up onto my favourite sitting branch right up at the top and showing him the view as Chris and PJ wandered back inside. I remembered his smile and his bliss.

His eyes so bright I thought they'd never shed another tear again.

I remembered sitting for what seemed like hours and yet no time at all. We clung to the branches and each other, picking out shapes in the clouds. Of course, I had to be the one to ruin it. Here, on top of the world and away from everything else, I'd brought reality crashing back down around us. I'd asked him about Jamie. What it had been like, when he had gone? I asked Phil if he got depressed, because I was naive and depression seemed like such an alien thing back then. You'd see the kids, the 'emo' ones. You'd hear everyone talking about them. You know Tom? The really weird one who doesn't talk? I've heard he cuts himself. Like with razors and stuff.